She knew that this husband of hers, this man who, with all his faults, was the best of her friends, whom of all she loved best--she knew that he was killing himself, and yet she could do nothing.

Sir Roger was his own master, and if kill himself he would, kill himself he must.
And kill himself he did.

Not indeed by one sudden blow.

He did not take one huge dose of his consuming poison and then fall dead upon the floor.

It would perhaps have been better for himself, and better for those around him, had he done so.